Saturday, 28 July 2012

Heavy duty farm spade . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

﻿My Dear Ralph

It seems like a perfect age since I last wrote pet? Indeed, I think it may have been at least five days. This morning, I thought I'd better embark on a trip to charge the battery on the Banger 0.9L (You will remember dear, that I decided to leave this piece of equipment under the one, working, car park security light for a whole week.) so I sauntered out across the compound dressed in my new James Bond attire - an all black outfit acquired yesterday from one of Bright Litton's cast off clothing shops - and opened the door. I had no sooner sat down when my eye was caught by the missing front panel of the radio. Now, subsequent to nearly having it pinched recently, I know exactly why I remove this every night, but it really is most annoying to be nearly-always leaving it upstairs in my secret drawer. Anyway, there you have it, no radio, and a drive the whole way to Little Soppington in prospect. Delightfully, however, the Banger 0.9L started without incident and there was only one screech from the brakes as I stepped on them while passing the bus shelter. No more panes of glass have been shattered in the night! I really must remember to phone Cheryl (our councillor) on the topic of the surveillance camera we plan to instal in its roof-top light. I don't know whether I have told you dear, but Pom-Pom has agreed to have the wireless receiver for this device in his front room - overlooking, as it does, the car park. According to Cheryl, the local fuzz will be sending round a Community Police Officer just in case, I gather, that local hoodies gain intelligence regarding our plan for their capture! I don't know quite what self-defence methods they could possibly intend to instruct Pom-Pom in (other than never answering the door - which he carries out to perfection already) but I myself, as you know, am already well-versed in the Black Arts. Do I mean 'black' pet? I fancy I may be looking for quite a different word. Actually, thinking of black has reminded me that my new outfit might look altogether more effective were it not for Chumley's long white fur sticking in clumps all over it.

It is certainly amazing how, whenever one plans any sort of drive to charge up the battery, rain starts lashing down in swathes across the roof-tops and winds look set to blow hard enough to blow trees down. I rapidly noticed how the river Otter had overflown its banks and how ducks and swans were floating on all the local fields. However, I did manage to swish along the lanes to Little Soppington and back without once turning my lights on! I did see Malcolm's bright lilac vehicle parked in a deserted-looking layby and he was just emerging from a hedge carrying what looked like a heavy duty farm spade. But there was no sign of Mary. I wonder how he is coping with her long illness now?

Having returned to Perfect, I spotted Docker heaving herself up the front stairs and we decided to go and examine the 'show' kitchen. I

don't know pet. You certainly can't trust Perfect to plan even elementary kitchen design without making a hash of it. You would think, wouldn't you, that they would have some insight into the average height of the mostly elderly people ensconced in here? The average height is most definitely short and here we have a most glaring example of long, tall, cupboards situated well out of reach upon the walls. It is additionally the case that many elderly people have difficulty bending, and the floor-mounted cupboards provide any number of low, out-of-sight, crannies which make their use virtually impossible. Not only that, there is also this expectation by Perfect that, once we are installed in these tiny 'flats' we shall never have any desire to embark upon a hobby of any kind - not even that of cooking the dinner. And so the work tops are practically non-existent and the one in the 'show' kitchen was unreachable, owing to being situated in an inaccessible corner! If I was living in there dear, I would have to resort to making a complaint - but luckily poor Mavis is deceased and so will not be needing to use this facility. Did I ever tell you about that dear? Well, apparently, Our Leader came across said inmate slumped across a washing machine, and generally rolling her eyeballs, in the laundry one day. So this certainly goes to show that persons who are most often found in their doctor's consulting rooms during the week, are not more immune than the rest of us to ghastly events involving being wheeled out on a stretcher!

About Me

This is a humour genre blog! 'The Pom-Pom letters: Memoirs from Alternative Accommodation.
The letters are written in the persona of Aunt Agatha - a retired MI6 operative - who is resident in a block of 56 flats for the elderly in a rural area of the UK. The year is 1996. The flats are staffed by a resident manager and his deputy. Aunt Agatha is close friends with another resident - Pom-Pom - and is carrying on a correspondence with her nephew Ralph, who is a member of a 'far left' political group and addicted to prescription medication.
Agatha's letters to Ralph form a commentary on events occurring inside the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex and, later upon her 'escape' - they describe her life from the relative safety of Forsythia Grove.